


Affection and bad hair days

by Moonshine_Givens



Category: Justified
Genre: Kid!Fic, M/M, NOTHING like that; it's just a play of words, boyd interacting with raylan's kid, it implies underage and pedophilia at the beginning but it's nothing, small participation of raylan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine_Givens/pseuds/Moonshine_Givens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dee wants to talk love, Boyd has to be a parent.</p><p>"She’s fourteen and she’s a Givens, she’s a female and she’s gorgeous, she’s a Harlan child and she’s her mother’s daughter, and there was never a bigger force of nature walking the earth, not even in the deep dark hills of eastern Kentucky."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affection and bad hair days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wargasms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wargasms/gifts).



> Hey, Gunslingers! I have three other fics I need to post, but I'm posting this because I was cleaning my computer and find out more than half way written.  
> I do hope wargams like it, even though it doesn't look like anything she writes. This is not smut, but it's a fluffy thing with your name all over. Consider it... a Christmas gift? Christmas gifts are never exactly what we want, but they're given with go intention and a kind heart. Take it as this.  
> I won't lie, there are SO MANY English mistakes in this. I'm sorry. I'm brazilian. It's four am. I'm trying to make my mother less depressed. I do hope you like it

Boyd never thought that this would be the case: that this would be the place where his life would bring him, through so many twisted paths. Here he was, an ex-nazi, ex-criminal, white trash hillbilly, in his fifties, lurking just outside a fourteen years old girl’s room, adding one more sin to his long list.

He presses against the cold hard door, listening, and even the fast beat of his heart sounds too loud as he tries to not make a sound. He knows full well he’s on the wrong here, and that this may be the one thing unforgivable, but… in his mind, he sees her long light brown hair, soft and shining; her sweet-and-warm-as-pie laugh; her big hazel eyes, she’s an autumn child, precious and glorious, everything he ever hoped for… he thinks maybe he can press against the door lightly enough to open a small crack, just a tiny one, just enough to see a glimpse of her…

“Just push it all the way and get it over with.”

Damn.

“I… I can come back later i-if you so wish.” Boyd answers, still outside the room.

“Yeah, or you can keep creepin’ outside my room. Just get inside, c’mon.”

She has a bossy tone, always had, since she was about five. But she doesn’t sound outright mad, and this is enough for Boyd to step inside, even if he’s not risking closing the door behind him. He’ll like an escape route in case she decides she’s not letting him out of the rook.

She’s laying face first in the bed, and for a second Boyd believes birds have made a nest just over her head. Fucking hell, her hair’s a mess. Crowder is actually quite impressed: in the small window it took between her getting home and he getting the nerves to stand outside her door, she managed to do the unthinkable with a usually perfect hair. It takes up a lot of talent to fuck up with Dee’s hair. She has good genes, after all.

He’s not going to mention her hair looks like shit, of course. He’s not suicidal.

“I take it you ain’t mad I was…”

“Spying on me?” she completes, without raising her head. The sounds come muffled.

“I was gonna say intruding, love, but I do suppose you can call it spying.”

She turns to him, half of her face still hidden under the pillow. The huge eye Boyd can see is not red, and Boyd feels relief all over him.

“You was afraid I was cryin’.”

“‘You were’.” Way too many days in them hills were starting to affect the girl’s speech. Fuck, Winona was going to kill them all.

“That ain’t a denial.”

They look at each other, and Boyd knows this is a test. It’s always a test with Dee. More than half the time he feels like he’s failing – the other times, he’s just not sure. She’s fourteen and she’s a Givens, she’s a female and she’s gorgeous, she’s a Harlan child and she’s her mother’s daughter, and there was never a bigger force of nature walking the earth, not even in the deep dark hills of eastern Kentucky.

But then again, Boyd was many things in his days, but a coward was not one of those things. He stared down guns and fire, the dark, deep pits; he may as well stare down Raylan Givens’ child, even knowing she’ll be the death of him some day.

There’s a tense moment, when everything can go to shit: Boyd expects her to go fully teenager on him, screaming over her need of space and trust. But she blinks and the moment goes away, she raises her body and sits crossed legged in the bed, generously giving him a space to sit down.

She’s still wearing her school’s clothes, sneakers and all.

“Dee, baby, you shouldn’t wear shoes in bed.”

“You shouldn’t spy on fourteen-years-old.”

Boyd sighs. He once thought Raylan was difficult: he had no idea.

He finally seats down by her side, looking over the familiar walls. Robert Plant stares at him from the other side of the room, looking prettier than any girl Boyd had ever kissed, with the sweet exception of Ava. He thanks God for Led Zeppelin and his ageless music, it’s always a comfort to see a familiar face over those walls.

“You ain’t gonna ask?”

“’Bout what?” Boyd plays dumb. Of course he ain’t gonna ask about the hair, he’s not that fearless.

He can feel Diana’s eyes watching him like he’s an easy prey. Still, he focus on the amount of great hair Robert Plant once had.

“Alright then, if you ain’t gonna ask… Boyd, there are serious matters I need to discuss with you.”

It doesn’t escape him that she doesn’t _want_ to discuss, but _needs_ to discuss.

“And what, pray tell, would be the nature of those matters, Dee?”

“I was hoping for the chance to discuss affection with you.” She pauses then, not out of shyness, but as if she’s searching for the right word. She’s the kind of girl careless enough to say “you was” but never to use “literally” unless she meant it literally. “Affection of a romantic kind, that is.”

Raylan likes to tease Boyd for his lack of hair. He feels like calling the fucker, describing this little tableau vivant, and asking Raylan if those are not reasons enough for a man to lose his hair over.

“Can I assume… hm… that you may have an object of affection that can be the cause of this sudden need to discuss such matters?”

“Well, that ain’t the point, now is it? We’ll be discussing it under a philosophical approach, and nothing else.”

Boyd was quite sure she never had Philosophy in school. He was also quite sure she never read any Philosophy related text in her life. Actually, he’s pretty damn fucking sure the closer she ever got to anything Philosophy-touched was Harry Potter’s fucking Philosopher’s stone.

“Oh, yes. I see now.”

“So, Boyd… there’s an infinite variety of people living in this planet. I mean, there are tall, short, big, small, funny, awful people all ‘round us every day. Finding one that deserves to be, how you put it, the object of our affection ain’t the easiest thing in the world.”

“It sure ain’t.”

“But to manage this, to find this one person that attracts you romantically, and to be able to make this one person fall in love with you as well seems to me like an impossible task. And please don’t give me that crap of true love and destiny and all that.”

Boyd wants to laugh, but he knows he’s only been giving a chance at forgiveness of the hideous crime of trespassing because Dee wanted to talk, so he has to make it good.

“You do realize you’re askin’ me to talk about romance from a non-romantic point of view.”

“You and daddy live a romance and neither of you is a romantic.”

Boyd looks at her, focusing hard on her eyes and trying not to look over her hair (he’s pretty sure there’s a small animal hiding in there).

“Whatever gave you the impression me an’ Raylan can’t be seen as romantics, darlin’?”

“Well…” Dee snorts, boyish and young. “It ain’t like you livin’ in a fairy tale marriage, are you? No candles or roses or any of that. I mean, I know you like each other and stuff, but you guys pretty much seat ‘round drinking beer and talking. I ain’t sayin’ its bad, Boyd, it’s just… I don’t know. Its more real than any romantic stuff, so yeah…”

Boyd thinks about his current life, as Raylan’s partner. He comes home from work usually long after Boyd is already home, just as tired and stressed out as he ever was. Some nights he doesn’t even talk, drinking bourbon quietly in a corner, and Boyd can almost swear his eyes glow dark red in the dark. Some nights he’s just exhausted, and he’ll sleep wherever he falls, long legs hurting and the beginning of a bad headache. Boyd can cook, but usually it’s not worth the trouble: most nights they’ll both end up eating before they get home. Last time they ate over candle light Dee was four and there was a blackout, and they both stayed awake the whole night since she couldn’t stop crying. Last time there were roses, Boyd is pretty sure it was at someone’s funeral, and he doesn’t have the faintest idea of who it was.

“Well, baby girl, we really need to talk about affection if you think your daddy is not a romantic man. That man was always ready to die for the ones he loved. Now I know you’re quite sure Raylan is ready to die for you at any day, and you don’t think that’s nothing much, he being your daddy and all. Me and Winona would also die for you, it comes with being a parent.”

Boyd won’t tell her that there are parents that wouldn’t die for their kids, he won’t tell her that there are parents that can try to kill their own kids, that those parents are not as far away as she thinks. He won’t tell her that. She’s a baby.

“But your daddy faced bullets and gun thugs and certain death for the two people he cared most romantically in his life, and again, that was me and your momma.” He keeps going. “Raylan found in himself love enough to forgive everything, all the betrayal, all the hurt and the pain I made him go through, just ‘cause he believed we should be together. Now, he may not remember birthdays and he may be an asshole from time to time, but that doesn’t mean he loves less. If anything, the fact he’s willing to try and _not_ be an asshole all the time just means he cares more, and it’s a romantic gesture in itself.”

She looks down, lost in thought. He knows she’s probably, once again, trying to understand how they could be okay after all that they went through together – it’s something she mulled over from time to time. One day she’ll realize that they’re not completely okay, one day she’ll understand she doesn’t know half of the whole story, and she’ll see them both as the damaged men they really are. Until then, Boyd will say anything to make her think about something else.

“Besides, Dee… ain’t like we don’t romance each other from time to time. We just try not to do such activities in the presence of our teenage kid.”

She blushes hard, and it serves her right. They’re not old men sitting in the couch waiting for dead, in fact, they’re very much _alive_ , they just don’t intend to traumatize her with just as much alive they both are.

“Dammit, Boyd!” she suddenly cries out. “That wasn’t what I wanted to talk ‘bout. We were discussing how to be sure the person you like likes you back!”

And there it goes. Full teenage mode activate.

“Alright, alright. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you show up in front of them with that hair? I’m sure if they don’t go running in the other direction, they’re the one.”

She swats at him, but it’s not really mad anymore, still waiting for an answer.

“Look, Diana Givens, I’m just… I’m not sure I’m able to answer you here. It ain’t easy lovin’ another person. I could tell ya the person who loves you the most is the one that’ll never let you go, but then again, the biggest prove of my love I ever gave your daddy was the day I let him get out of Harlan. Love, real love, is weird and romantic and foolish, but it’s also day-to-day life and it’s bills and spring cleanings and farts.”

“Ugh, Boyd, gross!”

“Well, yeah, darlin’, it’s gross as well. I loved, romantically, two people in my life, and those were as different from day to night. You can love more than one person at a time, and you can live years without lovin’ anyone at all, not even yourself. And it doesn’t matter what you do, there ain’t no way to make another person loving you. They love you or they don’t. You can seduce someone, and you can flirt all you like, and maybe that person will fancy you for a while, but that ain’t what love’s about. Love’s something your soul does to another, an imprint you leave on another soul, and trying to force someone to love you back will only lead to tears.”

He stops them, staring at her. Maybe he’s painting a picture too dark to teenage girl, maybe it’s not his place. She should believe that love is not impossibly difficult.

“But love is also somethin’ that grows and makes us happy, better. It’s… hell, it’s lots of things. I ain’t no poet, baby girl.”

She’s lost in thought once again, he can tell, her hands going to her fucked up hair. He feels the urge to stop her hands, but she’s really thinking about the things he said, so maybe tangling her hair is her method for mulling over Important Conversations.

“Boyd… I want you to be honest to me, ‘cause I trust you. Do you think I’m ready for all that?”

He would know how to lie, how to talk his way out of giving an answer, even, but she really does trust him, and he’s a parent now.

“Honestly, baby? No, I don’t. Not because you’re young, not _just_ because you’re young, but because there’s still so much you need to learn about yourself and your own soul, so much you need to learn about loving yourself before you commit to love anyone else. It is a big commitment, and it’s meant to make you care about someone else more than you care ‘bout yourself, and you’re too bright and beautiful not to be selfish and in love with your own existence for a while.” He stops for a second, before adding. “I do mean it romantically, of course. I do hope you have it in your heart to love your old parents.”

“Shut up!” she smacks him again, but Boyd will later remember of this moment as Dee saying she very much adores the ground he walks on. “But what should I doooooo?”

Fix your hair, for once, he wanted to tell her.

“Ya should… hell, Dee. Ya should have fun. You should date and kiss and have crushes. You don’t need to worry if they’ll love you or wonder if it’ll last forever, you should just… enjoy the fun. Dance. Meet people.”

Carry condoms, he also wanted to add, but this was one of the things he still felt awkward to tell her, even though he’s been raising her since she was three. He’s not sure it’s because he’s not her biological father or because she’s a girl, and there’s only so much misogyny a man can clear from his mind, even trying hard as he does.

“Boyd… do you ever wonder…”

But she doesn’t get to ask, since they hear the front door opening and closing a moment later.

“Boyd!” comes Raylan’s voice from downstairs, dragging the o for seconds too long. “The fuck are you?”

“The kid’s home!” Boyd yells back.

“Okay, then where the f-u-c-k are you, goddammit?”

Boyd rolls his eyes at Dee, who’s laughing like crazy. He doesn’t answer, the house is not that big and Raylan can take the time to look for them.

“My goodness, thought I’d never get home.” Raylan says walking inside the room, already without his gun and taking off his hat, leaving it on the first available surface. Boyd realizes the man is not exactly looking where he’s going, but doesn’t say a word. “If I die in my sleep ya’ll can get Rachel to pay for the funeral, she’s trying to kill us all. I ain’t sayin’ she hates us, but she hates us, and she won’t stop ‘till someone drops dead.”

He drops a kiss over Dee’s cheek, without bothering to look at her – probably guessing it was his kid over a sense of smell. Like a dog.

He turns around and, once again, acting on instinct, manages to kiss Boyd on the lips without seeing where he’s going. It gives Boyd a funny sense of pride, being in Raylan’s smell mind archive.

“I’ll call in sick tomorrow, I ain’t even fuckin’ with ya, I’ll sleep the whole week…”

“Raylan.” Boyd murmurs as he watches Raylan lying down in Dee’s bed, hand over his own eyes, with his street clothes just as his daughter.

“I know whatchu’ll say, Boyd, that I’ll never call in sick in a million years, but I’ll do it tomorrow, I ain’t twenty no more and I ain’t taking this abuse for another day…”

“ _Raylan_.” Boyd says with a little more emphasis, just enough to get Raylan to open his eyes.

Raylan sustains his body on his elbows to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he was half way through the motion of asking “Wha?” when he catches the sight of his daughter.

“The hell happened to ya?” Raylan asks, maybe a bit more high pitched than he realized.

“Shut up, it ain’t that bad!” she fakes hits him, but she’s blushing. “I was tryin’ to fix my hair…”

“What for? Halloween?”

“Daddy, Jesus Fu…”

Before Boyd can lose the notion that his baby daughter is the purest thing in the world, he says: “She’s got her eyes on a-” he takes a second, because if finding out he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Raylan taught him anything, was to not be heteronormative. “on someone. She was trying to look good.”

“Fuck’s sake, the boy’s a bird or somethin, in need for a nest?”

“You two gonna be assholes or help me fix this?” she asks, and in that moment Boyd can see Winona sitting right in front of him.

“Boyd, go catch me some scissors.”

Boyd just closed his eyes, ready as he was for the screams when they started coming.

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope you didn't suffer much coming to here.  
> Do you wanna reach me? I'm at ohthati.tumblr.com  
> Do you ship Boyd x Raylan? Check us out at wedugcoal.tumblr.com - we rec better fic than this one.


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